


Warrior

by queenoftheslayers



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Asgardian Magic, F/M, Female Friendship, No Marvel Characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 11:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4827350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenoftheslayers/pseuds/queenoftheslayers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison Argent wakens on Asgard, and is determined to find her way home. With the help of Asgardian Magic, a Banshee, and a spark of magic, will she make it home to Beacon Hills?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warrior

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a post on Tumblr that no longer exist.

Allison Argent was a smart girl. Sure, her IQ may not have been as high as Lydia Martin’s, but she hadn’t been failing any of her classes either.

She knew the moment she opened eyes that she wasn’t dead, but also that she wasn’t exactly alive either. She had a pulse, but she felt lighter.

She got up from the bed that she was on, ignoring the room that she was in that was designed to look and feel like hers from with her dad. She stood in front of the closed curtain in front of her window for a while. Slowly raised her hand and pulled back the curtain and gasped. It looked like the view of Beacon Hills outside right now, but that couldn’t be right. The moment that she pulled her window up, everything was going to change… no Isaac or Scott calling her, no dad knocking and walking through her bedroom door, no more midnight trips to the cemetery, no more middle of the night texts from Stiles, no more Lydia barging into her room and tossing bags of clothes at her.

She grasped the handles on the window, closed her eyes, and raised the window. When she opened her eyes, the image behind the window faded to a city of gold and silver, with a rainbow bridge off in the distance.  She leaned out the window and glanced around, eyes darting from object to object, building to building. It seemed to be night here, the city colors muted in the gray night. She pulled her head back in and lowered the window, the image remaining to be the city outside, and the image of Beacon Hills gone.

She turned and walked slowly through the room to the door, stopping when she caught sight of herself in the mirror on her desk. She walked forward and sat on her desk chair, looking on all the photos around her mirror. Her and Scott’s photos from the ice rink, Lydia and her at a Lacrosse game, Lydia her hair tucked behind one ear as she read an Archaic Latin text book, her mother and her at Golden Gate Bridge, her Father and her at Alcatraz pretending to be locked in a cell, and her and Jackson sitting in their swimsuits by the pool at school. She turned her head and opened the top drawer on her left, sliding her hand along the underside of the desk, pulling off the picture and her and Kate from right around when they both got there in Beacon Hills. They had been sitting on her bed at the house, laughing and goofing off with Kate’s cell phone.    

Allison put the photo down on her desk and got up and walked to her full-length mirror, finally allowing herself to look at her reflection. She pulled up her shirt and looked at the smooth skin, not even redness in the area that she knows she was stabbed.  Her other scars are there, but the fresh wounds were gone, the bruises gone. She skin healed and whole. She dragged her gaze up to her face and looked anywhere but her eyes. She still looked the same, but her hair and skin seemed brighter. She darted her eyes away so she wouldn’t have to see what she knew was there. She looked down at the simple black pants and tunic like shirt she was wearing, not recognizing them to being anything that she owned before.

She moved to her closet and opened the door. Her clothes were gone, replaced with tunics, leather pants, vest… all looking like they belonged in a Norse mythology book that she had sitting out a few weeks ago. She ran her fingers over a dark purple vest before closing the doors and walking the closed bedroom door.

She paused with her hand above the door handle. She took a last look around her room, her eyes lingering on her photos and her bed, memories fleeting from her head. She took a deep breath as she turned her head back to the door and when she finished exhaling she had wrapped her fingers around the knob and pulled the door open.

She was expecting to see nothing but darkness, but instead found herself standing in a cool stone hallway, Norse designs on the walls lit up by sparse torches; thank you Lydia for learning ancient languages in her spare time. She stepped into the hallway and heard the soft click of the door closing behind her. She turned and expected the door to be gone, but the white wood stood out against the stonewall. She ran her fingers over the wood of the door before closing her eyes and choosing a way to go. She moved to her right, her eyes open and taking in all movements of the shadows.

She walked for a while, fingers grazing the walls every once and a while to reassure herself that she wasn’t going crazy and that something solid was around her… but it still didn’t assure her, because didn’t the hospital doors and morgue door feel real when the Nogitsune was messing with her head.  Her mind drifted to Lydia, knowing that they saved her, but did they save Stiles from the Nogitsune. The thoughts rushed her now after the dam was broken. Had Lydia been hurt, was Stiles alive and the Nogitsune gone for good, did her dad see her dead on the ground in Scotts arms, did Isaac forgive her, did Scott ever let her go, how did they explain her death, was Lydia still in pain from feeling her death…

She lowered herself to the ground, her back against the cold wall, pulled her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. Later she would berate herself for not hearing the boots moving fast on the ground coming towards her. She raised her head to look at the woman standing in front of her when she noticed the booted feet in front of her, a hand reaching down to her to help her up.

“Hello, my name is Warrior Bera. Please stand Warrior Allison.”

Allison stood without grabbing her hand.  She kept her back to the wall, mouth shut, eyes forward, and arms across her chest. She didn’t say anything, just stared at the woman. She watched the woman’s mouth move, knew she should pay attention but all she could hear was the wind and something else she couldn’t place, whispering on the wind. She moved away from the woman’s hand she was reaching out to touch her. 

Bera nodded and withdrew from being near Allison. She beckoned with her hands and coaxed Allison down a hallway. They arrived after some time at a dark room with a glowing table in the center. She was again beckoned forward and when she reached the table she forced herself to listen to Bera and a woman that came from a doorway on the other side of the room. 

She lay down on the table and averted her eyes at the bright lights from the table lighting up and the woman’s hands moving glowing parts around.

“You can close your eyes dear,” the new woman stated, before turning back to the lights above her.

Allison turned her head away to stare at a dark wall, because no, she couldn’t close her eyes.

Eventually whatever was happening was over because she found herself being motioned to get up and follow Bera, again. Bera led her back to her room, the white door standing out from the stonewall. Bera opened the door and led her inside. On her dresser top, there was a tray of food and pitcher of water and a goblet.

“Eat. Someone will check on you later. Then rest.” Bera left.

Allison went straight to her bed and sat down. She spent time staring at the food across the room before she got up to look at it more closely. She needed her strength if she was going to find her way out of here. She wasn’t going to become a warrior for Odin; she was going to get home to her father and her friends.

She spend days sleeping and eating what food was left for her. She didn’t listen much to the Asgardian’s that came into her room, but she learned their schedules and learned the ways different feet fell upon the floor and the sounds of the city at night and during the day. 

She eventually was led out of her room, though she was promised that she was going to be returned after training. She was given a wooden staff and was put into a training routine with different men and women, whom all moved faster and harder than her family had when they trained her.  But she found that she moved faster and hit harder than before also.

She got into the routine of waking up, eating, training, eating, training, eating and sleeping. She noticed that the others would relax and go to feast and celebrate with each other, but she avoided them. And they let her.  She would come around; everyone went through this, the denial of the situation while throwing their self into training until they woke up. But she knew she wouldn’t just “wake up” back in Beacon Hills with her family and friends. She was going to fight for it though and find her way back.

It happened one night, weeks later, possibly a few months, that she let the people in her einherjar drag her off to a fancy banquet. She needed to keep up appearances and make it seem like she was moving on from her life before. Her training einherjar consisted of seven others; the leader, a Viking warrior from the 14th century, the others were three other Viking men, a woman and a man from the Civil War,  and a woman from Afghanistan from the early 19th century. They took to Allison and were slowly trying to help her acclimate to her new life, training for Ragnorock.

She was sitting at the table they claimed for the banquet, a goblet of Mead in her hand. She smiled and laughed along with others. She would be the first to admit that she was enjoying herself, but in the back of her mind a voice was whispering to her. She decided to ignore it for the night. She just wanted to forget for a moment what she had lost and breathe easier.

But as the night went on, the voice was getting louder, but she couldn’t understand it, which was worrisome, as now she could understand most languages due to her training. Ms. Morrell would be proud at her grasp of French now. She found herself slipping away from the party, down the hallways, and back to her room. She stood in front of the door of her room clutching her head in her hands, the pain from the noise throbbing away. With her eyes closed she got her door open and stumbled in, finally bracing herself against her desk.

Her head shot up when the noise crested and a scream pierced the room, her eyes landing on her mirror. She was grasping the edge of her desk and let out the breath she was holding in when Lydia looked up. Slowly she reached out a hand like Lydia did, but while her hands landed on the center of the glass, Lydia’s pulled to the side and she pulled a picture down. 

“Oh Alli, I wish you were here…”

Allison kept her hand pressed to the glass as the other came up to cover her mouth; Lydia couldn’t see or her. “Please, Lydia, please see me.”

She raised her hand away and yelled out as she slammed her hand back against the glass. She startled as Lydia startled, her eyes rising up to look into the mirror, but she wasn’t seeing Allison, she was seeing the man walking into her room behind her. Allison turned and looked behind herself to make sure he wasn’t in her room. He came over to Lydia and leaned down, giving her a kiss.

Allison’s fingers pulled down slightly on the glass as she watched them. The two pulled apart slowly and smiled at each other, causing Allison to smile at her friend’s genuine smile. She noticed when the two started to talk, but she could no longer hear what they were saying. She cried out as the image faded away rapidly and she was left to see herself… the changed version of herself, staring back at her. She slammed her fist into the glass, shattering the mirror.

What she didn’t know was that on the other side, Lydia’s mirror shattered also, causing Lydia to scream and be pulled back by Jordan. The Banshee Scream would come later. 


End file.
